You asked for 'never say never', so have some Ichigo/Orihime + Rangiku goodness.
One of Rangiku's favorite things (right up there with alcohol, and pretty men, and her breasts) was fashion, so even though Orihime's ugly duckling woes were beyond ridiculous, her spiritual (literally) adviser leapt at the chance to make her shine. The celebration was in an hour and Rangiku was still in a tiny negligee and fuzzy slippers, her hair in a towel, but she had transformed Orihime into something amazing.
And she still kept working, hoping that it would give the poor thing the confidence she needed, but one could never underestimate the pessimism of the teenaged soul. "This is never going to work," Orihime said despairingly.
"I can already tell it's going to work," Rangku told her, firm, and stuck a hair pick between her teeth. She piled Orihime's gorgeous hair on top of her head and twisted it up before carefully sliding the pick into place.
She was a vision, Rangiku thought, patting herself on the back. The gown had been a particularly clever touch, a lovely high-waisted thing that emphasized her very generous assets and then descended in an elegant fall of shimmering fabric all the way to Orihime's ankles -- a slim, modern outline, eye-catching.
"Kurosaki-kun isn't even going to notice," Orihime predicted. "I'm-- I'm sure he'll only look at Kuchiki-san."
"I'm not so sure," Rangiku murmured, but it was like Orihime didn't even hear her, turning around with her big brown eyes pleading, almost on the verge of tears that would ruin her lovely eyeliner.
She whispered, "When-- When should I just give up? Am I silly to still hope, even after all this time? Is it..." Orihime ducked her head, trembling very slightly with pent-up grief that kept tangling up her heart.
Rangiku clasped the girl's hands between hers, and smiled when Orihime mustered the courage to look up at her again. "Never," she said. "You never give up. Because Ichigo, he's a good guy. And someday he'll notice you -- notice your feelings -- and he'll treat you right. He won't leave you wondering."
Lucky girl, Rangiku thought, thinking of a young silver boy with a warm smile and cold hands, who had been her whole world one winter and kept her dangling ever since. But he hadn't been a good guy, not like Ichigo, and there was no room for him in her world anymore. Now when Rangiku thought of her world, it was in her gruff captain and her supportive friends and this little girl who looked up to her.
No one had ever looked up to her.
Orihime considered her slowly, and the words made her relax. "Yes..." she murmured. "He's so -- kind. I know he would."
Rangiku nodded sagely, but she still wasn't expecting the sudden hug, Orihime's arms tight and surprisingly strong around her. "Thank you so much, Rangiku-san," she said breathlessly. "I think -- I think I might be ready to go out there now!"
"Not without shoes!" Rangiku reminded, arresting her sudden bubbly rush for the door.
Although the girl had gotten at least part of it right. Rangiku didn't think he'd ever even have noticed if Orihime had gone out barefoot, but her Ichigo's eyes were on her the whole evening.
Rangiku patted herself on the back, helped herself to more than her fare share of the liquor, and had Izuru and Shuuhei pay for it all. The dress she'd eventually squeezed herself into made her tits look fantastic, so the boys were mesmerized by her in almost -- but not quite -- the same way that Ichigo was mesmerized by Orihime.
They were the queens of the ball; the one with her longing prince and the other with her harem. A good night for everyone, really.